


Like First Snow

by Fuzziestpuppy



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pagan's POV, Pagan's Poetry, Poetry, Sad, not entirely sure what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzziestpuppy/pseuds/Fuzziestpuppy
Summary: Alone at the top of the world, Pagan writes.





	Like First Snow

***

 

“Hold still,” he’d whispered into my skin, with

little sucking kisses pressed into my back. Hard, then soft,

making me shiver, the gentle rasp of his nails making me arch into his hands.

“No, I mean it. Hold still,” and I do. I could never deny him anything.

My wild, magnificent boy.

 

What follows feels like a shuddering hour of his hands and lips on me, the occasional

sharp rake soothed over by the heat of his mouth. The tiny pain erased, only

tingling sensation left behind.

 

“Go look,” he’d finally said, with that slow, sleepy smile he always has

after we’ve been together, warm and sated.

Getting up, I twist to see in the big mirror and inhale sharply, for there

amidst the rough lines of old wounds and ugliness

are _blossoms,_ a blooming tree in spring, soft petals rendered in dark purples and reds.

The pink lines left by his nails form delicate branches. The graceful line of the trunk

follows the divot of my spine.

 

I don’t have words, for how gorgeous it is. For how it feels, to be marked like this.

Made beautiful like this.

 

He comes up and meets my eyes in the mirror over my shoulder, leans in

to press his lips against the puckered scar there.

 

“Do you like it,” he’d whispered into my skin.

 

I’ll never know why I didn’t say it right then, tell him that I loved him

with everything in me, that I loved him

when he painted his own onto me, _into_ me, his lips and fingers his tools.

 

I’ll never know why I didn’t at least

take a photo; like first snow, it faded within the day

ephemeral

like him

like everything else I’ve ever held dear, gone

when I would have gladly worn it forever

held him close

held myself together.

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments/questions/critique welcome!


End file.
